


imagine me and you | rarepair collection

by synthehol_king



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, Breakups, Drugs, Ficlets, Fluff, Mirror Universe, Multi, Parents, Rare Pairings, Unrequited, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2020-06-22 09:31:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19664641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synthehol_king/pseuds/synthehol_king
Summary: A collection of various Star Trek rare-pairing oneshots. Tags added as they go.





	1. one foot on the platform | Quark/Riker

**Author's Note:**

> mood: [house of the rising sun - the animals](https://youtu.be/MJkr0DWbhTk)
> 
> based off [that one tng clip](https://youtu.be/VDLq51joXPw) where Quark and Riker are petty exes
> 
> cw: implied breakups

“You know, people are gonna start thinking you’ve got a gambling problem.”

Will laughed, answering with a shake of the head as he searched for his missing boot. The individual pieces of his uniform had somehow found their way into every corner of the room, and then some. He could feel the other staring as he slipped the left boot on with one hand, and stretched the neck of his undershirt over his head with the other. 

“I’m serious. That friend of yours looked like he was going to stare a hole right through my dabo table last night,” Quark added. He was lounging against the pile of pillows that covered the headboard of his bed, arms lazily resting behind his head. His voice was still thick with sleep, but there was a hint of sincerity to his concerns. Will noticed, but didn't acknowledge it.

“I think Data was more concerned with the game itself than who was playing it,” Will reassured him, leaning back across the bed to plant a quick kiss on Quark’s mouth. “And there are worse places to spend my shore leave.”

Quark returned the kiss, but his expression remained unchanged. There was a conversation that needed to happen, but he was secretly grateful that it probably wouldn’t. Discussions of feelings, titles and emotional unavailability were hardly his specialty. Particularly when said hang ups were his own. The grim little quirk to the corner of Riker’s smile was confirmation enough that the words were unsaid, but understood.

“Well…the next time Starfleet decides to let you take a day off,” Quark said, choosing his words as carefully as Riker was choosing his expressions. “…stay away from my dabo table. I won’t be able to afford it.”

A grin broke out across Will’s face, and Quark laughed. There were worse ways he could lose his latinum, he supposed.


	2. making moutains out of concaves | Bashir/Data

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mood: [infinitesimal - mother mother ](https://youtu.be/ffTxXXfGKi8)
> 
> inspired by the TNG episode "Birthright"
> 
> cw: existentialism

Data was well accustomed to being admired. 

His design, abilities, and sheer memory capacity were quite literally the highest quality currently available in the field of artificial intelligence. He was an invaluable asset aboard a starship, given his enumerable capabilities both as a science officer and as a machine.

In other words, people admired him in the same way they admired a shiny new computer.

Data had often wondered how, and when, the public opinion on him would shift, given the tendency of bio-organisms to adapt to new technology, and subsequently lose patience with what was considered outdated. It was inevitable, after all. He wondered if he would still be in operation when it finally happened, or if his design was advanced enough to extend beyond living beings ability to progress technologically. In that case, he supposed, he would simply remain unchallenged, alone, until his own expiration date.

He wondered which would be considered 'worse,' if he'd had the emotional capacity to comprehend such a thing.

What he was not so used to, however, was the idea of being admired on a "personal" level. There had been Jenna, of course, and Tasha, more briefly, but neither had been quite so fixated on things like his pulse or the length of his eyelashes. No one had ever commented on movement of his shoulders when he was breathing, or asked him if he preferred certain fabrics of clothing, or if he had thought of allowing his hair to grow longer or be cut shorter. 

Julian, however, seemed fascinated to hear his answers to such questions.

He also seemed to enjoy kissing him, holding his hand, and tracing his own fingertips across the artificial skin of his face, grinning and committing every inch to memory, thoroughly appreciating every aspect of his design.

Or maybe it was more than his design he was admiring. 

_Perhaps he should commit to further research on the subject,_ he mused, as he returned the squeeze he felt from Julian's hand as their fingers wove in between each others'.


	3. plasticine smiles | Quark/Brunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quark and Brunt get stoned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while very sleep-deprived.
> 
> cw: drugs

"Take a deep breath, and don't let go."

Brunt did as he was told, lips pursed hesitantly around the mouthpiece of a rather obnoxious-looking hookah. It was a makeshift contraption constructed from an old kanar bottle and a piece of a worn-out hydraulic hose, held together with a combination of tape and sheer willpower. Brunt didn't even have enough working knowledge of the subject to turn his nose up at it; he would, unfortunately, have to take Quark's word for it. Besides, it wasn't as though he had any other connections at the moment - Gamma Quadrant native ganja wasn't the easiest thing to come by on Ferenginar, particularly when you were a liquidator. 

And there were even fewer connections he'd be willing to ask to teach him how to use it.

"Alright," Quark continued, after what felt like an eternity of holding a cloud of smoke in his lungs. "Let it out. _Slowly_ "

Immediately he launched into a coughing fit, to which Quark responded by hastily moving the hookah out of harm's way. "I said _slowly_!" He rapped his fist against Brunt's back, taking his arm as his breath slowly returned to normal, the redness in his face lightening several shades. "You alright?"

Brunt scowled, but didn't immediately jerk his arm away. "I'm fine."

And suddenly, he was more than fine.

He was _fantastic._

It wasn't exactly an immediate high, but he was almost instantly relaxed. He slipped back in his chair, letting out a sigh that seemed to deflate his entire body and replace the sour look on his face with a stupefied grin. Quark stared, returning the look with a surprised laugh, before taking a drag off the mouthpiece himself with a smile.


	4. more or less a givin' thing | Quark/Vic Fontaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic takes Quark out to a dance club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **cw:** hologram existentialism, makeouts
> 
> ok this started out as a joke but i really like it now help

Quark wasn’t a fan of surprises. 

He also wasn’t a fan of long, unnecessary cab rides. Particularly ones driven by holograms.

And he _especially_ wasn’t fond of watching the hologram that dragged him along _tip_ said driver with holographic money while they stood outside a nightclub on the other side of Las Vegas.

And now he was annoyed that all of that needlessness had been for the sake of commuting from _one_ imaginary nightclub to another, equally imaginary one.

“Hey, humor me, would you friend? I don’t get out much.”

He rolled his eyes, but followed. 

Inside it was dark, and hazy. The music was loud and alive with the room – it sent a kind of electricity down the back of Quark’s spine and soon he was forgetting just what he’d been so annoyed about as Vic pulled him towards the dance floor.

He struggled to keep in time with the beat until Vic took his hands, leading him in a dance that was close and smooth. Whether he was any good at it or not didn’t seem to matter; his focus was on the little grin that never seemed to leave Vic’s face while they moved.

It was getting harder to remember the fact that none of this was real; not the club, nor the music, nor the hands that pulled him to the booth in the corner. The lips that pressed against his face and neck made him more and more forgetful that Vic was a figment of another’s far more skilled imagination, made of codes and beams of light arranged in a pretty package.

Or maybe it was just becoming less important whether or not the package was real, and more important what was waiting inside to be unwrapped.


	5. it is my lady, oh it is my love | Grilka/Natima Lang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grilka has a gift for Natima from an unexpected source.

“I can’t believe it…”

Grilka found herself smiling at the way the Cardassian woman’s eyes sparkled as she opened to the title page of the book, her fingers tracing over the indent of a familiar signature inside. If it hadn’t been a gift, she still would have easily paid her weight in latinum for the look of gratitude that lit up the other's face.

“I thought I’d never see these again,” Natima breathed. Any doubt she may have had regarding taking an extended stay on Qo'noS had disappeared. Grilka’s home was breathtaking, and her library was worth the trip in and of itself. Particularly now that she knew it contained three of her missing textbooks from her days as a student. She hadn’t seen them in years, since her time on Terok Nor. “Where did you ever find them?”

“A gift, from a dear friend,” Grilka answered. “I told them I was looking for some Cardassian literature to add to my collection, and a week later, these arrived at my door.” _And next week,_ she noted to herself, _Quark would find a hefty case of Skagran whiskey waiting for him on Deep Space Nine for his troubles._

“Funny,” Natima said. “Last time I saw these, I had left them with a ‘dear friend’ of my own,” her face darkened. She closed the book gently. “Though I suppose he wasn’t _that_ dear, if this is where they ended up.”

Grilka tilted her head, reaching out to take Natima’s hand and hold it tightly. “Perhaps then fate has been in our favor, and his loss.”

Natima stared back at the Klingon woman’s face, as though searching for something. Whatever she found, it was apparently something she liked, and she smiled back, taking her second hand to clasp it firmly around Grilka’s. 

“Thank you,” she said. She pressed her lips gently to the top of Grilka’s hand, oblivious to the way it made the latter’s breath catch in her throat. “Frankly, I think I like the idea of them being here with you a lot more.”

Grilka squeezed her hand tighter. 

“So do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty sure I saw a post going around about these two getting together and I sort of fell in love with the concept
> 
> I just want a lotr-style high fantasy romance between these two, so i hope that vibe comes across lol


	6. someone who loves you | (Mirror) Quark/(Mirror) Brunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brunt pays Quark an unexpected visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so what if in the Mirror Universe Quark and Brunt are actually madly in love ala a Han/Leia type romance
> 
> also read this and then imagine how much sadder that would make the episode where regular Quark meets Mirror Brunt lol

A knock at the door was rarely a welcome sound on Terok Nor. Rarer still when it was an unexpected knock in the middle of the night.

“Enter,” Quark’s voice was just above a whisper, and he stood just out of reach from the door frame. Whoever it was likely knew him well, to choose to knock instead of using the bell – he could hear the small sound from any room in his quarters, a talent that had saved his skin more than once on this station. Still, it never hurt to be cautious, as evident by the disruptor pistol hiding in the pocket of his night clothes. 

The reveal of a very familiar face melted the ice in the pit of his stomach once the door slid open.

“Brunt,” Quark practically jerked him inside, closing the doors as quickly as they’d opened. 

“That’s what they call me,” Brunt replied, grinning as Quark sighed in relief. He pulled the other into a tight embrace, relishing the way he so easily relaxed in his arms. It was short-lived, however – Quark pushed away almost immediately, glaring at Brunt with his fist clenched against the front of his vest.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were hiding out on Talos IV.”

“I was,” Brunt said. “I got bored. Thought I’d come pay you a visit.”

“It’s not a good time,” Quark sighed. The smile on Brunt’s face was distracting. “The Klingons are here. This entire sector’s been under tight surveillance for the last month since the last raid. The last thing I need is to get caught with a stowaway in my quarters.”

“You’re not going to get caught with anything. I know how to cover my tracks.”

“It’s not safe here. _You’re_ not safe.”

Brunt’s smiled faded. He raised his hand to meet the back of Quark’s neck, wrapping his arm tighter around his waist. “Like I said, I know how to take care of myself, Quark. Now would you stop worrying for a second and let me kiss you?"

He saw no need for further argument.


	7. then came a carriage | Quark/Grilka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Quark and Grilka’s second marriage went a whole lot smoother than the first.

“I surrender,” the Ferengi held up his hands in defeat. “Now please, let me die with dignity, honorable warrior - oof!”

The full weight of the bat’leth swung against his torso stole the air from his lungs in an instant. He dropped to his knees, lurching forward in a feeble attempt to shield himself. Its wielder giggled, picking the weapon back up to parry, before a gentle hand paused her swing.

“Val, remember what I’ve taught you - there is no honor in wounding those weaker than you,” Grilka smiled. “Now, help your father up. Before he bleeds on the rug.”

Val’HoS did as her mother told, taking her father’s hands into her own. She was short for a Klingon her age, tall for a Ferengi, but strong, living up to the second half of her name. At the age of four, she was already twice as strong as her father, and hoping to double that within the next year. 

Quark let out an exhausted sigh, tipping his head back against the seat of the couch from his defeated position on the living room floor. “Alright, I think three wins is enough glory for anyone for one night,” he said, reaching for a book on the coffee table. He patted the space beside himself on the floor.

When she approached, bat’leth still in tow, Quark held up his hand. “Hold on just a second. Val, take _that_ to your Moogie.” 

Grilka winced at him as she retrieved the toy. “I wish you would’t have her call me that.”

“You call _my_ mother that.”

“Only at her request,” Grilka said. “Ishka is an honorable woman; there is very little I would deny her.”

“Then you should feel honored to share her title,” Quark replied, smiling as Val curled up at his side to read. He flipped open the well-read pages of the picture book, settling on a page depicting a small Ferengi child - to which someone had added many drawings of forehead ridges in crayon.

“See Brock acquire,” Quark read aloud. “Acquire, Brock. Acquire!”

Quark missed the smile on Grilka’s face as he dipped down to kiss the top of their daughter’s head, but gave one of his own as he felt a tiny hand reach to grab his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah it’s another Quark pair...
> 
> but mostly it’s an excuse to make him a dad :’o
> 
>  **Val’HoS** \- I took the Klingon words for “clever” and “strong” and put them together for her name lol. Quark probably wanted to name her something else but Grilka won and he’s made peace with it. Ishka is the best grand-moogie and her entire family spoils her to death.


	8. i hear a beat, how sweet | Odo/Data

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Data has a problem with Spot. Odo is the man for the job.

“Has this always been here?”

Data looked at the large, potted plant. “No. I brought it here only a week ago.”

“Well, get rid of it,” Odo grimaced. “It’s blocking her view of the door. And probably making her anxious every second she hears a footstep she can’t see.”

Data lowered into a squat, mirroring Odo’s position near the floor. He attempted to peer around the plant, and, finding he could not, nodded. “That would explain her sudden change in behavior. Intriguing; I had not considered the effect such a small change might have on her environment.”

“Most monoforms don’t,” Odo said, reaching out to pet Spot, who’d approached to rub against his leg. “It’s difficult to understand things from a perspective you’ve never known.”

“Odo, may I ask you a question?” They had already gone through the discussion of whether or not Data should refer to Odo as “Constable;” most everyone else did, but they had decided that since Odo held no authority over Commander Data specifically, or anyone aboard the Enterprise, his name would suffice. So far, however, this rule had only applied to Data; everyone else he’d interacted with had defaulted to his title, and he wasn’t about to correct them.

“Yes?”

“You refer to me as a ‘monoform.’ I presume it is due to the fact that I am unable to metaphysically shift my body in the way you are able to rearrange your molecular structure at will. However, I am capable of making changes to my physical structure, or, theoretically, removing components of my positronic brain and implanting them into a new processing unit. Do you still consider this compatible with your classifications for this term, or would you categorize this as a unique subcategory?”

Odo’s eyes scanned the floor. “I...suppose that is a unique perspective,” he said. “You aren’t exactly like other humanoids; you don’t consider your consciousness as innately tied to your physical form. But your form _is_ limited. A changeling is limited only by its capability and mass.”

“Interesting,” Data looked intrigued. “So you would consider me humanoid?”

Odo blanched. “I only meant that your current design is inspired to look humanoid. If you are uncomfortable with the term, I apologize.”

“Not at all; I appreciate the distinction,” Data said. “My design is modeled after my creator, who was human. It was his goal, and mine, to appear as humanoid as possible. For me, it is a compliment. Do you find it to be the opposite?”

“I wouldn’t say I consider it an insult, but I wouldn’t take it as a compliment,” Odo folded his arms, and shifted his shoulders. “I don’t consider myself humanoid, even though I may appear to be at first glance, and I don’t have any desire to become one. I wouldn’t want to impose such an identity on anyone who might feel the same way I do.”

“But you do take a humanoid form; would you prefer to remain in your natural state, if possible?”

“I only take a humanoid form because I live among humanoids,” Odo answered. With anyone else, he may have been annoyed by the question, but he appreciated Data’s straightforwardness. He knew that Data asked out of genuine curiosity, and not an attempt to mock or criticize him. Nor was he attempting to pathologize or study him; he simply asked because he did not know. “If I had been found by quadrupeds, I’d have four legs right now. My natural state is not particularly sustainable outside of my home planet; we’re more vulnerable. And...I’ve found that most humanoids find me more difficult to relate to when I take on forms that don’t look much like them.”

“I believe I understand; I find that most people are uncomfortable with my non-human attributes,” Data said. “They prefer to see me as a human with android capabilities, rather than an android designed to appear human.”

“Hmm.”

Odo watched Data lift the plant with ease, carrying it to the furthest corner of the room. On his way back, he reached to pick up Spot, and held her close to his chest. He scratched her ears, and she gave a loud purr. He looked to Odo, and smiled.

“Thank you, Odo. I appreciate your ability to adapt to new perspectives. As, I’m sure, does Spot.”

Odo mirrored Data’s expression, for once unconcerned with the awkward way his mouth curved to form a smile.

“Don’t mention it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah listen okay i know Odo isn’t good enough for Data, and honestly this is unrequited at best...but I am in love with the idea of Odo crushing on him because he can relate to him a lot
> 
> also the title’s from the tin man’s song in the wizard of oz lol


End file.
